Rachel Lindsay - Love and Dr Forrest Page 4

  "It's Richard. Pat doesn't like him."

  "Sounds like a case of unrequited love," Martha replied.

  Lesley grinned at Pat. "Fancy Richard as a husband?"

  "I'd rather wait for Bobby. If you two don't spoil him rotten."

  "We don't spoil him," Lesley said seriously. "He really is peaky."

  As if to lend weight to their concern over him, Bobby developed a temperature the next morning that persisted—without any other symptoms—for more than a week, and resulted in Lesley's taking him to see Dr. Raye, the pediatrician at St. Catherine's.

  "There's nothing radically wrong with the boy," the consultant said when the examination was over and Bobby was playing out of earshot. "Just a weakness in the chest that should be cleared up before it gets chronic.

  Any chance at all of his spending the winter abroad?"

  "In a warm climate you mean?"

  "Or somewhere cold and dry. Switzerland would be fine."

  "And equally out of the question. I don't have the money."

  "It was only a suggestion," Dr. Raye said. "He'll grow out of the weakness in a couple of years. Don't worry about it."

  "How can one not worry?" Martha commented later that evening. "Of course Bobby must go away. I've more than enough money to—"

  "No," Lesley cut in. "Absolutely not. And you won't talk me out of it, either."

  "But-"

  "No."

  Accepting defeat, Martha said, "What about the boy's father?"

  "He can barely keep himself. No, I'll work it out alone."

  But though Lesley racked her brain in the weeks that followed, no solution offered itself until, one morning in late October, she received a call to go and see Dr. Raye.

  "A friend of mine runs a clinic in Switzerland," he said as soon as he had greeted her, "and he's looking for an assistant who will stay with him for at least a year. There's accommodation for a married couple and he says he wouldn't object to a child."

  "It sounds ideal," Lesley gasped. "But would I be good enough? I've no special qualifications "

  "A medical degree from a good hospital is all that's required. Anyway, there's no harm in applying. The clinic's in Arosa. It's lively in winter I believe but quiet in the summer."

  "I don't care what it's like so long as it's good for Bobby."

  Dr. Raye looked pleased. "My secretary will type out the address for you. I suggest you write at once."

  Only when she was on the bus going home did Lesley unfold the slip of paper to find out to whom she must write. Looking at it, her newly found pleasure died. She might as well forget the job here and now. No matter how suitable she was, she'd never be accepted.

  Not by Phillip Redwood!

  What irony that of all the doctors in the world, he should be the one in charge of the clinic. Never would she forget his scathing comments about women doctors. It was astonishing that Dr. Raye had given her his name. Surely he knew of the man's prejudice? With a heavy heart she folded the note and put it away.

  When Martha heard of Lesley's refusal to write to Phillip Redwood she was horrified. "I'm sure he wouldn't turn you down because you're a woman. He made those remarks years ago—and when he was angry with his wife, too!"

  "That had nothing to do with it. You can't have forgotten what he said about you!"

  "He was upset that a patient died and he blamed me for it," Martha said quietly. "He may well have been right. It's a guilt I've lived with ever since. But no one is infallible."

  "Considering he also tried to get you fired________ "

  "That had nothing to do with him. It was Sir Lionel. Anyway, the board didn't agree and I stayed on. Now take my advice and write to Mr. Redwood."

  "No. Once he sees my name, he'll never take me."

  "You think he'll remember you?"

  "I wasn't thinking of that. I meant because I'm a woman. It would be quite useless for me to apply."

  "Really, Lesley!" Martha did not hide her exasperation. "At least try. For Bobby's sake."

  Pulling a face, Lesley went to the desk. Briefly she listed her medical qualifications, penned a personal note to Phillip Redwood and signed it firmly and clearly "Lesley Forrest." Then without giving herself time to change her mind, she put on her coat and hurried out to post it.

  That's that, she thought as she heard it fall into the letter box. He won 'leven bother to reply!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  To Lesleys amazement, Phillip Redwood accepted her application by return mail.

  "The job is not a difficult one," he wrote, "but we expect total dedication to it. If you definitely wish to come, please wire me the date of your arrival.

  "Incidentally, about your nephew's welfare—the clinic housekeeper will be more than willing to take him off your hands until he's well enough to attend the village school."

  Almost speechless with delight, Lesley handed the letter to Martha and then rushed off to talk to the Appointments Board about releasing her from her contract.

  Once they learned of her reason for wishing to go, they created no obstacles and the end of the month found her ready to leave for Switzerland. Tod had given her permission to take Bobby out of the country and had even sent her a cheque for a hundred pounds.

  "It's all I can afford," he wrote. "I only wish it Were more."

  "Words are cheap," Pat commented in a sniff. She had come to the house to bid Lesley goodbye and was sitting in the bedroom morosely staring at the cases. "It will be awful here without you."

  "I'm not going forever. Anyway, you can always come out for a holiday."

  "I might at that. I've a couple of weeks due to me."

  "Don't forget, then. After a few months with Mr. Redwood I'll probably be in need of feminine company."

  "Though Lesley had spoken in jest, she considered it with more seriousness as she lay in bed, too excited to sleep. Deborah Redwood was likely to be the only other Englishwoman at the clinic, and she could not envisage a friendship forming between them. She wondered how the woman enjoyed living in a place that afforded her such a short social life. Four months of winter gaiety could not recompense for eight months of boredom. She herself would love it, but then, like Mr. Redwood, she had an absorbing career to occupy her energies.

  Early the next morning she and Bobby flew to Zurich. It was an uneventful flight, followed by a dash across the city to catch the train to Chur, a junction at the foot of the Alps that was the starting point for many ski resorts high up in the mountains.

  It was dark when they reached Arosa. Brightly painted sleighs were drawn up in rows outside the station, and the horses snorted and tossed their heads, the bells on their harnesses jingling a musical accompaniment.

  Lesley looked around expectantly. She had wired Mr. Redwood the time of her arrival and was sure he would send someone to meet her. Catching Bobby's hand, she hurried out to the square. Keeping her head down against the icy wind, she bumped into a thickset man rushing into the station.

  "I'm sorry," she stammered in English.

  "It was my fault," he replied. "But I am meeting someone, and I was late getting here."

  "Are you from the Zecker Clinic?"

  "Yes," His eyebrows rose in surprise. " You are Dr. Forrest?"

  "Yes. And could we please go to your car? My nephew is very cold."

  At once the man led her toward a large station wagon. He took his place at the wheel and, with clank of chains, slowly started up the steep and narrow village street.

  At the top they reached a plateau, and the road veered to the left, giving Lesley a faint view of a large hotel, the name Kulm gleaming in the darkness. Then they swung through a wooden archway bearing the word Clinic and shot at breakneck speed up an acutely steep driveway, coming to a slithering halt in front of a flight of stairs.

  "Please go in," the man said. "I'll take your cases around to the back."

  Holding Bobby's hand, Lesley entered the lobby and had no more than a fleeting glimpse of white paint and brilliant lights b
efore a nurse came toward her.

  "Sprechen Sie English?" Lesley asked haltingly.

  "Bestimmt!" the nurse smiled. "You would like to see?"

  "Mr. Redwood."

  At this juncture Bobby coughed and the nurse looked down at him.

  "Ach so? For the boy?"

  "No, no," Lesley said quickly. "He's my nephew. I'm Dr. Forrest."

  The nurse looked taken aback. "Forgive me. I will have you taken to the Herr Doctor at once." She rang a bell and a young maid appeared. "Meanwhile I give the boy some food, nicht ?"

  "I'm not hungry," Bobby said.

  "Try to have some milk, darling." Lesley bent and, kissed her nephew. "I won't be long."

  She hurried after the maid who was already halfway along the corridor. At the end of it they climbed a flight of stairs, opened a door and entered Mr. Redwood's private wing. Here the walls were Wedgewood green with soft carpet underfoot. The maid stopped in front of a mahogany door and knocked upon it, then motioned Lesley to enter. Drawing a slow, deep breath she did so.

  Phillip Redwood rose from behind a desk to greet her.

  The years had scarcely altered him, and except for a touch of grey at the temples, he was as dark and tall as she had remembered, his eyes crystal grey in the de^p tan of his face.

  " You are Dr. Forrest?" His words were an echo of those the Swiss doctor had spoken, though Phillip Redwood's tone was cold as ice. "What do you mean by coming here under false pretences? Dr. Raye knew perfectly well I wanted a male doctor."

  The rawness of his anger took her by surprise.

  "I never kept my sex a secret. I signed my full name."

  "Since when has Lesley been a woman's name?"

  "I suggest you write to Somerset House and find out!"

  "There's no need to be rude."

  "Exactly!"

  He bit his lip. "I'm sorry. This has been a shock. It never occurred to me you were a woman. You can't stay, of course. I'll reimburse your fare and you can leave tomorrow."

  "But I've no job!"

  "I'll give you three months' salary in lieu of notice."

  "But you can't dismiss me because I'm a woman. I'll report you to the Medical Association."

  "This clinic isn't under their jurisdiction."

  She tried again. "What about my nephew? It's important for him to stay in this climate."

  For an instant he looked dismayed. "I'm sorry about that, but as I said before, I'm not responsible for this mistake."

  Realizing the futility of arguing further, she nodded.

  "If you'll show me where my room is________ "

  He escorted her to the reception desk, spoke briefly to the nurse, gave an even briefer look at the little boy sitting on a chair in the corner of the hall and walked away.

  Lesley's heart went out to her nephew. He looked so small and frail silhouetted against the white wall, his legs dangling from the chair and his eyelids drooping sleepily. Gathering him up in her arms she followed the nurse to the elevator. At the top floor they walked the length of the corridor.

  "The end of each floor houses the medical staff," the girl explained.

  "How many nurses and doctors are there?"

  "Two resident doctors, besides Herr Redwood, and forty-four nurses. One of the doctors is English. He has been wording in Zurich for the past few months. The other one has rooms on the next floor."

  "This is a large clinic."

  "A miniature hospital," the nurse said proudly and allowed Lesley to precede her into a well-furnished suite of rooms. "The medical staff has dinner at eight, but if you wish to have yours in your room, I can arrange it."

  "That would be most kind. I'd prefer not to leave my nephew alone."

  "Ja.ja. The first night is always strange, night?"

  She went out and Lesley quickly settled her nephew in bed. Then, tired from disappointment and fatigue, she had a hot bath and changed into a floral housecoat.

  Her supper arrived promptly at eight—an excellently cooked meal followed by delicious coffee, and she was sipping it when Bobby gave a cry from the bedroom.

  She ran in to find him breathing heavily, his golden brown curls soaked with perspiration. He stared at her uncomprehendingly and began to babble about the journey. Quickly she examined him and then picked up the house telephone to ask the receptionist if it was possible to get some antibiotics for her nephew.

  "I'll get the dispensary to send them up right away," the girl replied.

  Slowly the minutes ticked by and Bobby's breathing became more laboured. The bright flush on his cheeks darkened and he lost his earlier talkativeness.

  Suddenly there was a tap on the door and she opened it to find Phillip Redwood on the threshold.

  "I understand your nephew is ill," he said. "I thought I'd better see him myself."

  "There was no need for you to bother."

  "He is in my clinic and is my responsibility." He walked past her and entered the bedroom.

  Bobby stirred as firm hands touched him.

  "Go away," he croaked. "I want mummy. The lorry's coming, daddy! Daddy look out! The lorry—" His voice broke on a scream and he sank back against the pillows.

  Redwood looked enquiringly at Lesley and she moistened her lips.

  "My sister was killed in a car crash and Bobby was in it."

  "Was he hurt?"

  "A broken ankle and fractured ribs."

  The man straightened from the bed a took a pillbox from his pocket.

  "Give him two of these now and four hourly. It isn't serious—as I'm sure you know. Just a chill. How old is he?"

  "Eight."

  "A bit thin, isn't he?"

  "He's still pining for his mother." Tears trembled on her lashes and she blinked them away. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Mr. Redwood."

  "Forget it." He strode to the door. "You obviously can't leave tomorrow, so he might as well have an X ray."

  "But-"

  "Good night, Dr. Forrest," he interrupted, then was gone.

  In the morning Lesley awoke to a world of dazzling snow. Bobby was sleeping peacefully and she padded over to the window and pushed it wide, closing it again quickly as an icy wind stung her skin. The sky might be Mediterranean blue but the temperature was definitely Siberian!

  Hurriedly she washed and dressed, then combed her hair back into its usual smooth coil. It crackled with electricity and little tendrils refused to conform to the pull of the comb and curled protestingly around her ears and temples.

  At eight a maid entered with a laden tray and Lesley tackled the crisp rolls and butter and the delicious pots of blackberry and red-currant jam. She was on her second cup of coffee when Bobby stirred.

  "Good morning, darling. Feeling better?"

  "Much better, thank you." His voice was stül a croak and he smiled. "I sound like a frog."

  "A very young one! What would you like for breakfast?"

  With a great deal of cajoling she persuaded him to drink some milk. He had just finished when Phillip Redwood telephoned to say he was sending someone to take Bobby to have an X ray and to ask her to come to his office at noon.

  Promptly at twelve she did so. In the clear light of day she saw more grey in his hair and noticed that the laughter lines around his eyes had deepened into wrinkles. She realized how much older he looked.

  "I owe you an apology for my behaviour last night," he said quietly. "My only excuse is that I'd had a tiring day. You weren't to know I don't like working with women doctors."

  Wasn't /?she thought wryly, but remained silent as he went on.

  "Your nephew's in no condition to travel. There's nothing organically wrong with him—merely a weak constitution he should outgrow in time."

  "That's why I took the job here."

  He frowned. "Have you thought of boarding him with a Swiss family?"

  "Bobby's been too nervous since my sister died for me to risk sending him to strangers. I'm sorry to be a nuisance, Mr. Redwood; we'll leave as soon as we can.
In the meantime, if there's anything I can do to help…"

  "Last night I could have dismissed both of you to limbo," he said testily, "but having seen the boy__________ "

  His lips twisted as he saw her surprise. "I'm not an ogre, you know, nor am I a sentimentalist! The boy needs treatment—you'd both better stay for a month."

  "It's very kind of you. I hope you'll let me work while I'm here?"

  He frowned. "I suppose so. I'll get Dr. Berteau to show you around. You and he are responsible for the general welfare of the patients. We have one hundred twenty of them at present, so you won't have much free time."

  "I wouldn't know what to do with it if I had!"

  Half an hour later Axel Berteau was showing her around the clinic.

  He was a stocky young Swiss with neat brown hair and moustache, who looked as if he had come out of a 1930s' magazine. But there was nothing dated about the clinic, which was as well equipped as money could make it.

  Seen in daylight, it was large and four storeyed, with balconies facing south and tall windows that ranged from floor to ceiling. Each patient had his own room, and as well as a large nursing staff, there was a large domestic one.

  Still, no doubt the high fees commanded constant service, although it seemed wrong that such facilities were available only to the rich.

  "We have many nonpaying patients here," Dr. Berteau said, his words uncannily interpreting her thoughts.

  "Who pays for them?"

  "Professor Zecker and Mr. Redwood. But it is never mentioned."

  With a flourish he opened a door and Lesley found herself in an operating theatre.

  "What are these?" she asked, pointing to some unusual instruments lying on a metal trolley.

  "They are specially made for Mr. Redwood. He has developed a revolutionary technique for operating on the lung. At the moment he considers it experimental, but he has given life back to people who would otherwise have died." Dr. Berteau's face was alight with pride. "It is a great honour to work with him."

  "I'm sure it is," she said gently. "What about the other doctor? The English one."

  "Dr. Weis—he pronounced it "Vice"—is still in Zurich. But he will be back soon."

  Before the week was out Lesley had settled completely. The patients hailed from many walks of life and countries, and once she became accustomed to the change in routine, the work was as interesting as her job at St. Catherine's.